What Was Left Behind
by WhiteMarsh
Summary: DMC5 post-canon. After the Sparda brothers leave for the Underworld, it's up to the people that remain to take stock of what they left behind. Features basically the entire cast dealing with the practical and emotional consequences of their last adventure. Genfic, little bit of NeroxKyrie and I do my utmost to keep everything canon compliant.
1. What was hidden

Despite having been to the Devil May Cry office countless times before, Lady felt unusually somber turning the spare key to enter the dilapidated building. A sunny afternoon was coming to an end, and even though the heat hadn't been on in the building for weeks it still felt warm and stuffy in the office. A layer of dust had settled on every surface, more still dancing in the air from the disturbance of the two women walking inside.

"Is this like settling the estate of a deceased relative?" Trish muttered, walking over to the desk in the center. It was littered with scattered notes, filthy magazines (in more ways than one) and an old pizza box with dubious and probably hazardous contents.

"A bit, maybe." Lady had dealt with loss many times before, but she couldn't pin down what she was feeling now. Was it even a loss? He could come back, in theory, but would he?

There was no way of knowing if Dante would ever return, and even if they hadn't seen very much of each other for the past few years, he was still one of her oldest and dearest friends. Even if he was alive and happy where he was, the thought of never seeing the goofball demon hunter again was a painful one. Sure, he was a hassle to be around much of the time; a loudmouth jackass and absolute mess of a man who could barely keep it together when not actively on a job, but he had always presented a shoulder to lean on when needed, even if just a proverbial one. Lately, Lady often wondered if she had ever properly repaid that favor.

Regardless of how she felt, they couldn't leave the office to rot away. The bills wouldn't pay themselves and should Dante never come back, then selling the building would be the only solution. But first they'd have to take stock of what was even in this mess, a mammoth task on its own.

"Don't suppose he left a will or something?" Trish held up a filthy dish cloth between two fingers with a look of distaste. Dante had never been known for neatness, but he had really let himself go in recent years and the office looked more like a bachelor pad from hell than a legitimate business.

"This is _our_ Dante you're talking about, Trish. I don't think he even knew the current day of the week half the time. In fact he once called me in a panic because he'd forgotten it was a national holiday and all the grocery stores were closed."

"What did he need?"

"I don't remember. Something stupid." Lady sighed. "Do you ever think we left him too much on his own?"

"He's a big boy," Trish said, tone dismissive but she looked thoughtful.

Little over two weeks had passed since the conclusion of the Red Grave City incident, not a lot of time to wait, but Morrison had threatened to auction the entire joint off if nothing was done about the place. The deed was originally offered to Nero, but he had quite emphatically declined and, if Morrison's paraphrasing of the conversation was to be trusted, a string of profanities and mentions of _deadbeat morons rotting in hell_ had been included. So, with the only living relative not an option, the job of sorting through Dante's worldly belongings fell on his colleagues.

"Honestly, I don't even know where to start," Lady said. Just looking around the office, seeing the mess, the odd knick-knacks, all the memories, was paralyzing.

"How about we just start with the desk? Then at least we have a surface to sort things on."

It was a good thing Trish had agreed to come along. Despite their less-than-amicable first meeting, the demoness had quickly become an important friend. She was fun to be around, but more importantly for their current situation, she was good at getting things done.

Armed with gloves, cleaning rags and large waste bags, they went about clearing the desk. Garbage, food containers and magazines going into the waste bags, while more personal items were carefully packed into a cardboard box. Lady paused for a moment as she was dusting off Eva's portrait. Dante hardly ever mentioned his mother, but on several occasions, particularly when faced with a difficult decision, she's noticed him glance at the portrait, as if consulting it for answers. She was struck by the hope that he really did find his answers in the end.

She wrapped up the now clean portrait and placed it in the box. Even if Nero didn't want the shop, she still wanted him to have a chance to go through these things and no matter how he felt about it, that picture was of his grandmother. Even if he could accept nothing else, he should at least have that.

"Hey, come look at this," Trish called out. She was crouched behind the desk, going through the drawers. She shuffled to the side to allow room for Lady to see. The bottom drawer was open and contained just a single item; a plain-looking wooden box. "What do you think is in here?"

"Only one way to find out."

They placed the box on the now mostly cleared desk. It was locked, but the key had been left in, more a suggestion than an obstacle.

"Do you think it's anything demonic? Like a weapon?" Lady would rather not have to deal with any vengeful entities today.

"I don't feel anything unusual from it," Trish said. "And if it was anything really bad, he'd probably hide it better, right?"

"I suppose so."

Even so, Lady held back a breath as Trish turned the key and opened the box, letting it go as a low huff when the contents were revealed. Papers, just a stack of papers. Some loose, some stuffed into envelopes - some crisp and new, some worn and crinkled after what must have been years of being shuffled around.

Trish picked up a thick envelope and pulled out one of the documents. After looking at it, she pulled out another one. "These all appear to be bank statements."

"Let me see." Lady took another page from the envelope. Trish was right, it was a bank statement, this one from more than a decade ago. "What in hell…" She took another one, but it told the same story. "That son of a…"

She really didn't want to be angry at him, not right now, but she couldn't help it. How many times had he come to her, begging for a loan to pay basic utilities, when she now learned that he simultaneously had been stashing money away in a secret account, using an alias, for what seemed like _decades!_

"I can't believe this! This is where all his money went?!" Dante being plainly bad at managing his money was one thing, but to deceive her like this? If he wasn't already in hell, she'd be more than happy to send him there herself.

"Hold up a moment," Trish said, handing her another piece of paper. "I think you should read this."

It was a hand-written letter, on the kind of fancy decorated letter paper a young girl would use. The writing was delicate but slightly uneven, colorful stickers of cute animals were placed in each corner. It had to have been written by a child. The letter wasn't crinkled, but the folds were almost wearing through the paper, like it had been read over and over for years.

Lady swallowed, feeling like she was encroaching on something very private. Something that even after all these years, Dante had never told her about.

_Dear Tony_

_I hope you are doing well!_

_Tiki was really surprised went we got your letter. We never knew you were the one who sent all the money Morrison brings and we both want to say thank you._

_I'm sorry I don't remember you very much, Tony, but you never forgot about us after all this time! We are both doing well, I'm in eight grade now and Tiki will soon graduate high school. Maybe you could come for her graduation? (She says you don't have to come, but I think it would make her happy. Maybe you can tell us stories about dad and Jessica?)_

_You don't have to worry about us and you don't have to send more money. Tiki says we will be fine on our own. We promise._

_Love and hugs,_

_Nesty_

After she finished reading, she carefully folded the letter again. Her eyes burned and at the same time she wanted to punch something, the reason for either wasn't quite clear to her.

"You didn't know about this?" Trish asked quietly, still leafing through the bank documents.

"No. He never said anything."

"Some of these date back almost twenty years. That letter isn't dated, but it appears he kept making deposits. The newest one is only from two months ago."

"That bastard…"

Trish chuckled. "You're just angry that you can't be angry at him."

It was true. Lady had been ready to tear him a new one just a moment ago, but now she didn't know how to feel.

Trish removed the last of the documents, revealing a faded polaroid photograph at the very bottom of the box. She picked it up to show to Lady.

It showed Dante, younger even than he'd been when they first met. Hardly more than a boy, with a lopsided grin and sparkling eyes under his pale fringe. He was sitting at a table, apparently after a meal. A girl a few years younger stood next to his chair with a shy smile and her hand clasped in front of her. A toddler sat on his leg, a sprawl of flailing limbs with one hand tugging at Dante's hair so he had to incline his head a little. A third child, maybe around five or six, seemed ready to climb up to her sister. _Tony and the girls_ was handwritten in the margin.

Lady had seen many a grin and smirk on Dante's face, but she couldn't recall ever seeing him this at ease before.

"How unfair," she muttered.

It was almost midnight by the time they locked up the office. There was still lots to do, they had barely started with the back rooms and the upstairs living space would probably take several days to get through. After they finished stashing the boxes in Lady's trusty pickup and setting the garbage out to be picked up in the morning, they said their farewells and Trish mounted her motorcycle to speed off into the night.

Exhausted, Lady dragged herself into the driver's seat, promising herself that she would bring it all to Nero's place once they were done. He didn't understand it, not yet. He might think forgetting helps, that if you don't look, it will all go away. Lady knew better. If he threw all these things away without even looking it over, he would regret it one day.

She knew from experience.


	2. what was missed

"I don't care! I don't need any of his old junk!" Water splashed from the sink where Nero was doing the dishes. He wrinkled his nose when some soap suds landed on it and now his shirt was wet. He swore he could still hear his outburst ringing in the kitchen, and Kyrie's surprised face, not angry or scared, made him feel awful. Putting the dish down more carefully this time, thankful he hadn't broken it, he tried to release some of the tension in his shoulders. "I'm sorry, Kyrie. I shouldn't-"

"Nero." Her hand on his shoulder was grounding and her gentle smile was a lifeline he could always hold on to, even when it was just a memory in his head. "It's okay, I understand you are frustrated, but they are your family. You should give it a chance."

She always knew what to say and Nero loved her for that, but right now he just wanted to be petulant in peace.

"You're not really angry at them, are you?" She asked.

He shook his head as he toweled his hands. Having two normal hands again felt good, there was that at least.

"No, I'm- It's not-," why was it so hard to articulate? Instead of trying to put things he didn't understand into words, he decided to stick with what he knew. So he took one of Kyrie's hands in both of his and pressed a light kiss on her knuckles. "All the family I need is right here."

"Awww, that's just too sweet!" Nico crowed from the balcony where she had been smoking a cigarette. "Ain't you two just the cutest little things? I'm swooning here!"

"A little courtesy here, Nico?" Nero admonished with a glare.

"Oh, don't mind me." She waved her hand dismissively as she walked into the kitchen. "Not even here. Like a fly on the wall."

"Are flies always this noisy?"

"We do like to… buzz," Nico said with a grin. She gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Now quit moping and get this done. You'll feel better after, promise." She left the kitchen, muttering something about wanting to be there to greet Lady as she descended the stairs.

"It will be okay," Kyrie reassured and Nero gave her hand a squeeze, grateful she was here.

"Yeah." It would be okay.

Even so, Nero still had a nagging sense of unease when Lady's truck came to a stop outside the garage. Cardboard boxes were piled in the back, along with smaller pieces of furniture and a few plastic bags.

"Oh no, this is a lot," he groaned.

Kyrie nudged his side before going to greet Lady who was emerging from the cabin, but Nico got there first.

"Welcome to Fortuna! Hope you like it here!"

"She's been here before, you know," Nero groused.

"What difference does that make? I'm just trying to be friendly."

"Thank you for taking the time to bring it all here," Kyrie said. "It means a lot to us."

Nero carefully avoided Lady's concerned gaze, instead looking over the cargo with resigned disdain. "This is... way more than I thought."

"Tell me about it," Lady concurred. "Even with Trish helping it took almost a week to sort everything out. I don't know what to do about half of this stuff."

Nero shrugged. "Sell it, give it to charity, I don't really-," Nero stopped when he felt another nudge at his side, finding Kyrie looking up at him pointedly. "I'll think of something."

"Ya got any weapons in there?" Nico could barely contain her excitement.

"A few," Lady replied. "Not as many as you might think, he tended to sell them off."

"Let's worry about all that later," Kyrie chimed in. "You must be exhausted after driving that far. The kids will be back soon and we can all have dinner together."

"That sounds wonderful, thanks." Lady's smile was genuine and grateful, but as they started to move inside, she shot a teasing glance at Nero. "Kids, eh?"

"_Foster_ kids," he gritted.

"Ah, I see. How many?"

"Three."

She whistled. "Must be a lively household."

"You have no idea."

It was indeed rowdy as everyone settled down for dinner. Julio and Carlo both seemed fascinated by Lady, pestering her with all sorts of questions, while Kyle was half asleep in Nico's lap. The subject inevitably turned to the truck outside.

"That's your truck, Lady?"

"All of that stuff is Nero's?"

"Nero has an uncle?"

"What happened to your uncle, Nero?"

"Alright, you two, one thing at a time," Nero cut in.

"Is he dead?" Julio asked with such earnest concern that Nero didn't know how to respond. These kids had all lost their own families and he hated bringing anything up to remind them of that.

It was Kyrie who came to the rescue. "Nero's uncle is fine. He's just travelling and might not come back for a while, so we are keeping his things for him."

"Okay." Julio seemed satisfied with the answer. "I'm glad he's not dead."

Things quieted down after that and the food was delicious and plentiful as always. Kyrie graciously accepted Lady's compliments on their home and when they were done eating she took the kids upstairs to start the long and complicated process of preparing them for bedtime. Normally that was a two-man job, but if Lady was to leave before nightfall they'd need Nero to help unload the truck.

While Nico was moving the van to make room to stash the boxes in the garage, Lady pulled Nero aside. She pointed him to a box that had been marked with an X on the side.

"Anything special in that one?" He asked as he helped her unload it.

"You tell me," she said, pulling out a box cutter from her back pocket.

Inside were a stack of folders, business documents it seemed, as well as several objects that had been individually wrapped. Lady handed one of them to Nero.

He shot her an apprehensive look. "What's this?"

"Find out for yourself. I don't think he ever showed you this."

He unwrapped it, finding a framed photograph inside.

"Is this... Trish?"

"No, she looks similar, but that's Eva. Your grandmother."

"Oh."

Now that he looked closer, he could see that it was indeed not Trish. This woman had a gentle calmness about her that he'd never seen on Trish. A sort of quiet dignity and strength. She reminded him a bit of Kyrie.

"It doesn't matter to me what you do with the rest of the stuff," Lady said quietly, "but keep this, at least. Promise me."

It just the span of a month, Nero had gone from believing himself completely alone in the world, to suddenly having an extended family. He felt guilty. It was more than he could have ever asked for, ever have reasonably hoped for, so why wasn't he happy? The kids would have been overjoyed to learn of relatives, no matter how distant, so why did he have to be such a brat about it?

"Y-yeah." He cleared his throat. "I will. Thank you."

Her smile was small, but genuine. "It gets easier, you know. After a while." She knelt down to pull a wooden box from underneath to document folders. "I almost forgot about this, I'm taking it back with me."

"What is it?"

"Something I want to look into. It's not anything to worry about."

"If you say so."

"So, Lady," Nico had returned from the garage, "where'd you keep the weapons?"

It was getting dark by the time they finished unloading the truck and stacking the boxes and furniture at the back of the garage. Kyrie came down with refreshments and they took a moment to rest before Lady had to leave.

Nero sat on a stool, turning a cold beer can in his hands. Lady had a soda to perk her up before driving home and was currently quizzing Nico on the possibility of a second Kalina Ann replica, still clearly upset Dante had taken both of them with him.

"Are you selling the shop, then?" He asked.

Lady sighed. "We have to. No one else wants to run it and Morrison won't get off my back about it."

Nico shrugged, lighting another cigarette. "This just me, but I think he should give them a bit more time. I mean they _could_ come back if they have your daddy's sword, right?"

"I guess," Nero said. "I don't really know how it works. I had the Yamato for years and I never knew what it could do." He realized he'd been subconsciously squeezing his right arm, leaving red marks on his wrist. At least he hadn't dropped his beer.

It was at this very spot he had lost the Yamato, and his arm along with it. Even is his arm had regrown, he still sometimes felt pangs of what could only be described as phantom pain. If they could return, if they did, what would he do? He had longed for a family of his own his entire life, and now that he knew he had one… Why did it have to be like this? He'd beaten Vergil, but it hadn't made him feel any better. He doubted anything could.

"Well, I guess I should be off," Lady said as she got up. "Pass my thanks on to Kyrie for her hospitality and excellent cooking."

"Yeah, I will." Nero felt dazed and was just now realising how tired he actually was.

"Safe trip home, Lady," Nico said, pulling her into a hug. "And I'll look into making a new masterpiece for you. Even better than the last, I promise."

"I'll owe you one."

"You betcha!"

After Lady drove off and Nico had retreated to her own den, Nero found Kyrie in the living room, reading in her armchair. She closed her book and got up when she saw him.

"Nero."

"Mhm."

"Are you alright?"

She pulled him into an embrace and he buried his face against her neck with a long sigh. He was so lucky in so many ways. How could he ever wish for anything more?

"Yeah."

He was okay.


End file.
